Hey, everyone! The formatting for this had better go through!!! Grr...
Anyway, I just wanted to thank Kerowyn and A.Spencer for reviewing this
fic. I'm glad you think it's good. It's really informal (in such a way as
to horrify my English teacher), but I'm glad it's not really offending
anyone or anything like that. And remember, this will become even more non-
canonical as it goes...major OOC-ness and such and so forth.
Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own any of the characters.the only ones that are mine are the ones that you haven't heard of before, like Krysin/Alice and Katrine. The others are owned by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle...yeah, the immortal Doyle himself owns Holmes and Watson and 221b Baker Street and Mycroft and "The game is afoot!" and everything else...
My dream? Oh, it had been so long ago. But I can't forget. I might as well try to forget that my hair is on my head instead of on someone else's.
I remember it clearly. I had fallen asleep that night, a peaceful darkness, a time to forget the worries of my little world, even at seven years old.
It first started with being in a beautiful field, filled with flowers. The warmth of the sunshine felt good on my face. Strangely, the moon was nearby, luminescent in its slight glow. The wind was wafting scents around me. Everything was surrounded by a bright aura. There was a beautiful stream nearby, lovely to look at. Nearby was a blazing fire, graceful as the flames kept on with their dance. Beyond that were snow-capped mountains, majestic in their hugeness, their snow beautiful and pristine white. I filled myself with the things my senses brought to my mind, which were keener there than I had ever remembered them to be before that. I loved it whole-heartedly.
But then came a huge thunderstorm, bringing with it a darker aura that was uncomfortable to me. I was beginning to get scared, worried that this perfect paradise was about to end before my eyes. I could almost hear the thunder laugh at me, the lightning cackle at me. I was scared out of my wits at this point. That is, until I heard a very soft voice call out into the sky in a language I did not understand. Suddenly, the thunder and lightning was gone, vanished with the voice.
I stood up, gazing around me in surprise once again. I heard a trickle of laughter, like the sound of pure silver bells on the breeze, each one crafted to perfection. I stood, listening, a warmth filling me with the sound of each note of her voice. I could tell it was a woman; the voice was too gentle and light to be a man's. I wandered around, trying to find the source of the voice, but unable to, I decided to quit and hope the voice would come to me. She sounded like a great playmate. She did come to me, right when I leaned myself against a huge oak tree. The oak tree sheltered me from too much sunlight, but let enough through to let me feel the warmth of it tingle my skin into life. She came in a bright mist of light and white luminous cloud-like material. I loved it like nothing else. She was beautiful. She had the face of an angel, shining. Her hair was like the sun, shining brightly, illuminating every part of what she saw; yet her hair was black. A raven color, like mine. Her skin was pale porcelain, delicate and smooth. She reached out her hand. I grabbed it, feeling her hand, its touch like the finest silk. We ran with each other, our laughter echoing throughout the forests and meadows and other lands we crossed. We seemed to go everywhere, from the deserts with their camels and hot sand, to the rainforests in South America, humid and green. We laughed at the animals around us, the people who smiled as we passed. It was one of the most wonderful feelings I have ever felt.
We came back to the huge oak tree, watching it in silence. I looked up at her, wondering why she just stood there while we could be playing.
It was as if she could read my thoughts, for she looked at me and smiled. "My dear child," she said, her voice filling the void of sound, "you have been chosen to carry a very big burden. You are to help many people as you grow up, and will continue to do so for the rest of your life. You shall be given very special powers, things you will not understand for a very long time. I understand if you do not understand right now; you will not understand for a very long time. Just remember this: I, Trahlirona...but you can call me Katrine...do give thee powers of my own, for my work on my earth is done. I shall not see you face to face in anything but dreams, but remember that I shall always be here with you, forever. We shall never be separated by anything, unless you use your power that I give you for evil. Just remember that I love you like my own child. I have watched over you these past seven years, and I always will watch over you. I shall remember you always, as you will remember me for always. We will always be together. Just remember that I will always be with you, though we will never see one another. I know this is very confusing for you, but you will understand in time." She looked at me, cupping my face in her soft silken hands. "Little Katelyn, I now give you the name Krystin, for you are my like my little child." With that done, she gave me a small kiss on the forehead. It felt like a little bit of happiness flowed right through me.
She left then, smiling as she went gliding into the forest. I tried to follow her, but I was unable to, being stopped by many along the way. I was terrified at the thought of her leaving me, but then, in my head, I heard, I will always be with you. Remember...
With that, I was back in my room, sweating. I fell asleep again, wondering if I was going to have another great dream like that again.
I did have another dream, where Katrine and I talked with each other constantly. It was so much fun! And she still is with me today, counseling me, helping me, struggling with me, laughing with me. She knows everything about me, though I know very little of her still.
I was brought out of my memory by a little shock from Watson, which must have taken quite some effort to get a little of it through my force field. I am always vulnerable when I'm not focusing.
"Krystin, please, what have you been thinking about?"
Before I could reply, my stomach rumbled. We must have been in there for quite some time. "I was thinking about getting some food," I said, smiling. "What do you say, guys? Shall we have something to eat?" Before they could respond, I was out of the room, going downstairs to find Mrs. Hudson.
I finally found her a few minutes later. She was a nice looking woman, attractively homely, if you can describe it as that. She was in her late twenties with a very kindly face, blonde hair in waves, and musty blue eyes. I'm surprised her husband had left her so early in life. Sad, isn't it?
Anyway, I had a chat with her. "Hello. I'm staying in a spare room adjacent to Mr. Holmes' bedroom. Would it be possible for you to have our meals done in a twenty minutes' time? I could help if you wish. I do need something to do with these idle hands of mine, though I'm not sure if is better to have them in or out of the kitchen!"
She smiled at this, then decided. "Of course I can have your meals for you in twenty minutes! But you needn't help me with it. I'm quite capable myself."
"But, I forgot to mention, Dr. Watson's in, also."
"Ahh.Dr. Watson is in for once? Well, then, maybe I might need your help!" I suppose that meant that Watson did not have a meager appetite.
Regardless, we began to work in earnest in the kitchen. I learned that preparing food without magic was much more satisfying than with it, and that Mrs. Hudson was very underrated in the Canon.
We had dinner done in sixteen minutes, a record, Mrs. Hudson told me later, considering that Watson was there.
Watson must have quite an appetite. But it could not compare to Mycroft's.
I was about to contemplate if Mycroft had anything to do with everything that was going on when Mrs. Hudson and I reached the seventeenth step to the lodgings. I opened the door to find two very flustered men inside.
Holmes strode towards the door immediately. Mrs. Hudson just ignored his opened mouth and placed the food on the table and left. She must have been used to it by then. She smiled at Watson, then at me, and left the room, making sure everything was in place with her well-trained eyes before leaving.
Once the door closed, Holmes' mouth opened. "Krystin, where are you from?"
"America, as you so stated before."
He was beginning to get irritated already. Good. Very good. "Where specifically are you from?"
"Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I live in Cranberry Township. The travel to Salem had been excruciatingly long until they made a school in Salem, Massachusetts, also. I lived in England for a while, about a year, right here in London, and also in a cottage in Ireland."
"Where specifically are you from in time?"
"2003. The rest of the date is the same."
He paced around the room. I swear, if he had done it much longer, he would have worn the carpet down to shreds. "Is this the future of our world? I am not sure if I wish to live that long!" He was obviously indicating my feminism, style, and language.
"Do not worry, Holmes; I am from a different dimension." He stared at me for just a moment, then stopped, his eyes going from a shocking brightness to a dull introspection. They cleared, though, after a few moments' time.
"Do I exist in your world?"
"As a fictional character only. A question for you, though: Are people such as Edmond Dantes, Oliver Twist, Jane Eyre, and Don Quixote part of history here?"
"Who?"
Watson spoke up. "No, Krystin. They must have their own universes."
Holmes spoke up again. "Do you have any idea why you are here or how you got here?"
"As to how I got here, I have no idea. Concerning why, it might simply be destiny. That is the only reason I can think of with everything that has happened, including the prediction."
"But can the prediction be trusted?"
"Holmes, every prediction that Cravitz has made have been correct," said Watson. "It should be taken seriously. Already, twelve of her predictions have come true."
"True, Watson, but we must look at every aspect."
"Could we please hold the rest of the interrogation until after dinner? I'm starved!" I had had it by then. I needed some sustenance before I could go on. I summoned my meal to me as I sat on the floor, my legs folded underneath me. It was very good, I must say. We did very well, Mrs. Hudson and I.
Holmes and Watson, their gentlemen natures getting the best of them, summoned their own meals and ate with me on the floor, Watson rather stiffly, Holmes rather comfortably. I swear, Holmes is one of the most catlike people I have ever met!
As we ate, I observed both of them. Holmes seemed to be very distracted, only picking at his food. Watson, obviously, was not worried, letting his mind drift to his food as he ate. At least Watson could be distracted from a case for something reasonable!
You know, as I look back on the day, I can see that Holmes was too honored by Doyle (or, now, Watson), and that Watson was extremely underrated. Watson was a very good man. He was even attractive. His face was finely crafted, rounder than Holmes', but, then again, whose isn't? But, he wasn't portly. He wasn't ugly. His hair was an attractive sandy color. His eyes, though a watery blue, were sweet. He does have a brain, which is quite contrary to many different people's beliefs. It's simply that Holmes outshines many people, including Watson and myself. At least, when it comes to deduction and such, he does. But he is underrated, which irks me some. If I ever show this to anyone, this will be a large part I emphasize, I believe.
As we finished our meals, we decided to leave off with the questions. At least, Watson and I had decided to postpone the questioning. I was itching to play that Stradivarius of his. Grr...
We all left for our rooms. I decided it was time to practice piano and violin. I started with violin, the mood seeming to come onto me quicker. Dunno why. Just did, I suppose. That's okay, though. I enjoyed violin very much. It was quite a challenge for me after practicing piano for so long.
I took it out of my bag. It fit nicely being the size of half of my thumb. That was changed soon, though. I certainly can't play a miniature violin that size with an even more delicate bow! No, sir! Just wrapping them in that velvet and cotton took me forever! I took them out and enlarged them. I tested the strings, making sure they were at least somewhat like I had left them. They weren't of course. So, I tuned them, the familiar feeling of the instrument run through me, like a piece of home I took with me on this journey.
The instrument melted into me. I could feel an unexplainable warmth run through every particle of my body with the first note of violin. It was only an open G, but regardless, it was like coming home to a much-awaited fire blazing. Wonderful. It was simply wonderful. I let the music rush from my memory. I played whimsical tunes I made up on my own. I played classic minuets and sonatas. I even did some melody lines from country singers, too. It was beautiful. It gave me a peace I could not explain, this feeling inside me of coming back to where I belong. I loved the feeling of it. It spread throughout me like a welcoming stream of gentleness. I was interrupted by my senses; someone was outside my door, listening intently. A few moments after I stopped, Watson walked into the room. "I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you, but I must say, that was beautiful."
I think I blushed a little bit. "Thank you, Doctor. I'm very pleased you enjoyed it so much."
He walked towards my bed and sat on the edge. "Please, don't stop because of me. I can actually recognize some of what you're playing, unlike when Holmes plays." He chuckled at his own joke. "But, please continue." He sat back, folding his hands together and placing them on his knee. I suppose he was waiting. So, Holmes is not the only one with irritating persistence that leaves you no other choice than to do it or be rude. This will definitely be an interesting, if not irritating and nerve-wracking, stay.
I began to play some Beethoven, which seemed to please him. I then waltzed off into some Mozart and Strauss. He enjoyed the Mozart most, I think, though why, I'm not sure. I personally liked Strauss. But, then again, I enjoyed reading about his life, too.
I ended with a little twist to an adapted version of Pachebell's Canon in D, a little on the more electric-violin style. His eyes opened then. From the corner of my peripheral vision, I could see him sit up and lean over, his elbows on his knees. Interesting, to say the least. At least he wouldn't fall asleep.
I finished with one last, long, and loud note. He began to clap enthusiastically. I usually do not get such praise as this with my musical talents. I was pleased very much. Jokingly, I bowed deeply, my violin and bow in either hand. I was enjoying myself immensely. I looked up and smiled at him as I rose from my deep bow. By this time, Holmes had entered the room, just in time to see me rise from my bow. He began clapping also, only in a more condescending way. He was going to infuriate me like nothing else by the end of this stay. Way before the end of this stay.
I shrank my violin and its bow back into its travel size and covered it in its protective layers. I then put them away in my bag.
I stood up from bending down to put these things in my bag and turned to them. "Excuse me, if you will, but it is getting very late." It had; it was already eleven thirty. Half an hour until midnight. They, taking the hint, left.
And here I am, sitting and writing this. I'm still trying to sort things out, but I'm not sure if I ever will be able to. Oh well. So be it. So be it.
It's already three in the morning. Time to turn in. I wonder when they'll learn about this laptop? Can't wait to see their reactions!
Hehehehe!!!!! I'm glad I've finally got this out. I just need to keep going...I wonder where this is going to go. I hope everyone that read this enjoyed themselves, and also I hope that you will leave a review after you have read the story. It's really appreciated, and I'd like some constructive criticism...just some suggestions and such, ya know. PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! All flames will be used for warming up my personal foot warmers. Hee hee hee!!!
Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own any of the characters.the only ones that are mine are the ones that you haven't heard of before, like Krysin/Alice and Katrine. The others are owned by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle...yeah, the immortal Doyle himself owns Holmes and Watson and 221b Baker Street and Mycroft and "The game is afoot!" and everything else...
My dream? Oh, it had been so long ago. But I can't forget. I might as well try to forget that my hair is on my head instead of on someone else's.
I remember it clearly. I had fallen asleep that night, a peaceful darkness, a time to forget the worries of my little world, even at seven years old.
It first started with being in a beautiful field, filled with flowers. The warmth of the sunshine felt good on my face. Strangely, the moon was nearby, luminescent in its slight glow. The wind was wafting scents around me. Everything was surrounded by a bright aura. There was a beautiful stream nearby, lovely to look at. Nearby was a blazing fire, graceful as the flames kept on with their dance. Beyond that were snow-capped mountains, majestic in their hugeness, their snow beautiful and pristine white. I filled myself with the things my senses brought to my mind, which were keener there than I had ever remembered them to be before that. I loved it whole-heartedly.
But then came a huge thunderstorm, bringing with it a darker aura that was uncomfortable to me. I was beginning to get scared, worried that this perfect paradise was about to end before my eyes. I could almost hear the thunder laugh at me, the lightning cackle at me. I was scared out of my wits at this point. That is, until I heard a very soft voice call out into the sky in a language I did not understand. Suddenly, the thunder and lightning was gone, vanished with the voice.
I stood up, gazing around me in surprise once again. I heard a trickle of laughter, like the sound of pure silver bells on the breeze, each one crafted to perfection. I stood, listening, a warmth filling me with the sound of each note of her voice. I could tell it was a woman; the voice was too gentle and light to be a man's. I wandered around, trying to find the source of the voice, but unable to, I decided to quit and hope the voice would come to me. She sounded like a great playmate. She did come to me, right when I leaned myself against a huge oak tree. The oak tree sheltered me from too much sunlight, but let enough through to let me feel the warmth of it tingle my skin into life. She came in a bright mist of light and white luminous cloud-like material. I loved it like nothing else. She was beautiful. She had the face of an angel, shining. Her hair was like the sun, shining brightly, illuminating every part of what she saw; yet her hair was black. A raven color, like mine. Her skin was pale porcelain, delicate and smooth. She reached out her hand. I grabbed it, feeling her hand, its touch like the finest silk. We ran with each other, our laughter echoing throughout the forests and meadows and other lands we crossed. We seemed to go everywhere, from the deserts with their camels and hot sand, to the rainforests in South America, humid and green. We laughed at the animals around us, the people who smiled as we passed. It was one of the most wonderful feelings I have ever felt.
We came back to the huge oak tree, watching it in silence. I looked up at her, wondering why she just stood there while we could be playing.
It was as if she could read my thoughts, for she looked at me and smiled. "My dear child," she said, her voice filling the void of sound, "you have been chosen to carry a very big burden. You are to help many people as you grow up, and will continue to do so for the rest of your life. You shall be given very special powers, things you will not understand for a very long time. I understand if you do not understand right now; you will not understand for a very long time. Just remember this: I, Trahlirona...but you can call me Katrine...do give thee powers of my own, for my work on my earth is done. I shall not see you face to face in anything but dreams, but remember that I shall always be here with you, forever. We shall never be separated by anything, unless you use your power that I give you for evil. Just remember that I love you like my own child. I have watched over you these past seven years, and I always will watch over you. I shall remember you always, as you will remember me for always. We will always be together. Just remember that I will always be with you, though we will never see one another. I know this is very confusing for you, but you will understand in time." She looked at me, cupping my face in her soft silken hands. "Little Katelyn, I now give you the name Krystin, for you are my like my little child." With that done, she gave me a small kiss on the forehead. It felt like a little bit of happiness flowed right through me.
She left then, smiling as she went gliding into the forest. I tried to follow her, but I was unable to, being stopped by many along the way. I was terrified at the thought of her leaving me, but then, in my head, I heard, I will always be with you. Remember...
With that, I was back in my room, sweating. I fell asleep again, wondering if I was going to have another great dream like that again.
I did have another dream, where Katrine and I talked with each other constantly. It was so much fun! And she still is with me today, counseling me, helping me, struggling with me, laughing with me. She knows everything about me, though I know very little of her still.
I was brought out of my memory by a little shock from Watson, which must have taken quite some effort to get a little of it through my force field. I am always vulnerable when I'm not focusing.
"Krystin, please, what have you been thinking about?"
Before I could reply, my stomach rumbled. We must have been in there for quite some time. "I was thinking about getting some food," I said, smiling. "What do you say, guys? Shall we have something to eat?" Before they could respond, I was out of the room, going downstairs to find Mrs. Hudson.
I finally found her a few minutes later. She was a nice looking woman, attractively homely, if you can describe it as that. She was in her late twenties with a very kindly face, blonde hair in waves, and musty blue eyes. I'm surprised her husband had left her so early in life. Sad, isn't it?
Anyway, I had a chat with her. "Hello. I'm staying in a spare room adjacent to Mr. Holmes' bedroom. Would it be possible for you to have our meals done in a twenty minutes' time? I could help if you wish. I do need something to do with these idle hands of mine, though I'm not sure if is better to have them in or out of the kitchen!"
She smiled at this, then decided. "Of course I can have your meals for you in twenty minutes! But you needn't help me with it. I'm quite capable myself."
"But, I forgot to mention, Dr. Watson's in, also."
"Ahh.Dr. Watson is in for once? Well, then, maybe I might need your help!" I suppose that meant that Watson did not have a meager appetite.
Regardless, we began to work in earnest in the kitchen. I learned that preparing food without magic was much more satisfying than with it, and that Mrs. Hudson was very underrated in the Canon.
We had dinner done in sixteen minutes, a record, Mrs. Hudson told me later, considering that Watson was there.
Watson must have quite an appetite. But it could not compare to Mycroft's.
I was about to contemplate if Mycroft had anything to do with everything that was going on when Mrs. Hudson and I reached the seventeenth step to the lodgings. I opened the door to find two very flustered men inside.
Holmes strode towards the door immediately. Mrs. Hudson just ignored his opened mouth and placed the food on the table and left. She must have been used to it by then. She smiled at Watson, then at me, and left the room, making sure everything was in place with her well-trained eyes before leaving.
Once the door closed, Holmes' mouth opened. "Krystin, where are you from?"
"America, as you so stated before."
He was beginning to get irritated already. Good. Very good. "Where specifically are you from?"
"Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I live in Cranberry Township. The travel to Salem had been excruciatingly long until they made a school in Salem, Massachusetts, also. I lived in England for a while, about a year, right here in London, and also in a cottage in Ireland."
"Where specifically are you from in time?"
"2003. The rest of the date is the same."
He paced around the room. I swear, if he had done it much longer, he would have worn the carpet down to shreds. "Is this the future of our world? I am not sure if I wish to live that long!" He was obviously indicating my feminism, style, and language.
"Do not worry, Holmes; I am from a different dimension." He stared at me for just a moment, then stopped, his eyes going from a shocking brightness to a dull introspection. They cleared, though, after a few moments' time.
"Do I exist in your world?"
"As a fictional character only. A question for you, though: Are people such as Edmond Dantes, Oliver Twist, Jane Eyre, and Don Quixote part of history here?"
"Who?"
Watson spoke up. "No, Krystin. They must have their own universes."
Holmes spoke up again. "Do you have any idea why you are here or how you got here?"
"As to how I got here, I have no idea. Concerning why, it might simply be destiny. That is the only reason I can think of with everything that has happened, including the prediction."
"But can the prediction be trusted?"
"Holmes, every prediction that Cravitz has made have been correct," said Watson. "It should be taken seriously. Already, twelve of her predictions have come true."
"True, Watson, but we must look at every aspect."
"Could we please hold the rest of the interrogation until after dinner? I'm starved!" I had had it by then. I needed some sustenance before I could go on. I summoned my meal to me as I sat on the floor, my legs folded underneath me. It was very good, I must say. We did very well, Mrs. Hudson and I.
Holmes and Watson, their gentlemen natures getting the best of them, summoned their own meals and ate with me on the floor, Watson rather stiffly, Holmes rather comfortably. I swear, Holmes is one of the most catlike people I have ever met!
As we ate, I observed both of them. Holmes seemed to be very distracted, only picking at his food. Watson, obviously, was not worried, letting his mind drift to his food as he ate. At least Watson could be distracted from a case for something reasonable!
You know, as I look back on the day, I can see that Holmes was too honored by Doyle (or, now, Watson), and that Watson was extremely underrated. Watson was a very good man. He was even attractive. His face was finely crafted, rounder than Holmes', but, then again, whose isn't? But, he wasn't portly. He wasn't ugly. His hair was an attractive sandy color. His eyes, though a watery blue, were sweet. He does have a brain, which is quite contrary to many different people's beliefs. It's simply that Holmes outshines many people, including Watson and myself. At least, when it comes to deduction and such, he does. But he is underrated, which irks me some. If I ever show this to anyone, this will be a large part I emphasize, I believe.
As we finished our meals, we decided to leave off with the questions. At least, Watson and I had decided to postpone the questioning. I was itching to play that Stradivarius of his. Grr...
We all left for our rooms. I decided it was time to practice piano and violin. I started with violin, the mood seeming to come onto me quicker. Dunno why. Just did, I suppose. That's okay, though. I enjoyed violin very much. It was quite a challenge for me after practicing piano for so long.
I took it out of my bag. It fit nicely being the size of half of my thumb. That was changed soon, though. I certainly can't play a miniature violin that size with an even more delicate bow! No, sir! Just wrapping them in that velvet and cotton took me forever! I took them out and enlarged them. I tested the strings, making sure they were at least somewhat like I had left them. They weren't of course. So, I tuned them, the familiar feeling of the instrument run through me, like a piece of home I took with me on this journey.
The instrument melted into me. I could feel an unexplainable warmth run through every particle of my body with the first note of violin. It was only an open G, but regardless, it was like coming home to a much-awaited fire blazing. Wonderful. It was simply wonderful. I let the music rush from my memory. I played whimsical tunes I made up on my own. I played classic minuets and sonatas. I even did some melody lines from country singers, too. It was beautiful. It gave me a peace I could not explain, this feeling inside me of coming back to where I belong. I loved the feeling of it. It spread throughout me like a welcoming stream of gentleness. I was interrupted by my senses; someone was outside my door, listening intently. A few moments after I stopped, Watson walked into the room. "I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you, but I must say, that was beautiful."
I think I blushed a little bit. "Thank you, Doctor. I'm very pleased you enjoyed it so much."
He walked towards my bed and sat on the edge. "Please, don't stop because of me. I can actually recognize some of what you're playing, unlike when Holmes plays." He chuckled at his own joke. "But, please continue." He sat back, folding his hands together and placing them on his knee. I suppose he was waiting. So, Holmes is not the only one with irritating persistence that leaves you no other choice than to do it or be rude. This will definitely be an interesting, if not irritating and nerve-wracking, stay.
I began to play some Beethoven, which seemed to please him. I then waltzed off into some Mozart and Strauss. He enjoyed the Mozart most, I think, though why, I'm not sure. I personally liked Strauss. But, then again, I enjoyed reading about his life, too.
I ended with a little twist to an adapted version of Pachebell's Canon in D, a little on the more electric-violin style. His eyes opened then. From the corner of my peripheral vision, I could see him sit up and lean over, his elbows on his knees. Interesting, to say the least. At least he wouldn't fall asleep.
I finished with one last, long, and loud note. He began to clap enthusiastically. I usually do not get such praise as this with my musical talents. I was pleased very much. Jokingly, I bowed deeply, my violin and bow in either hand. I was enjoying myself immensely. I looked up and smiled at him as I rose from my deep bow. By this time, Holmes had entered the room, just in time to see me rise from my bow. He began clapping also, only in a more condescending way. He was going to infuriate me like nothing else by the end of this stay. Way before the end of this stay.
I shrank my violin and its bow back into its travel size and covered it in its protective layers. I then put them away in my bag.
I stood up from bending down to put these things in my bag and turned to them. "Excuse me, if you will, but it is getting very late." It had; it was already eleven thirty. Half an hour until midnight. They, taking the hint, left.
And here I am, sitting and writing this. I'm still trying to sort things out, but I'm not sure if I ever will be able to. Oh well. So be it. So be it.
It's already three in the morning. Time to turn in. I wonder when they'll learn about this laptop? Can't wait to see their reactions!
Hehehehe!!!!! I'm glad I've finally got this out. I just need to keep going...I wonder where this is going to go. I hope everyone that read this enjoyed themselves, and also I hope that you will leave a review after you have read the story. It's really appreciated, and I'd like some constructive criticism...just some suggestions and such, ya know. PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! All flames will be used for warming up my personal foot warmers. Hee hee hee!!!